


Full Time Mediator

by RayByAnotherName



Category: 3 Ninjas
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 14:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20322202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayByAnotherName/pseuds/RayByAnotherName
Summary: Jerry Jeffries knew that being Sam Douglas' partner was going to give him a headache, he just didn't realize how long it would last.Snippets of his life as the godfather to Colt.





	Full Time Mediator

**Author's Note:**

> In the first movie, Sam refers to his partner as Jerry, but never uses a last name. I decided it was Jeffries and that Colt was named after him. I then proceeded to write a little more of this headcanon every time I watched the movie.

Jerry really should have known that partnering with Sam Douglas was going to be a massive headache. Four years into the friendship Douglas had met, married, and had two kids with Jessica Tanaka. And that was just the first two years. 

“Are we seriously investigating Mori Tanaka’s business right now?” Jerry gave Sam a pointed looked as he dropped the tax records for Tanaka Karate on the man’s desk. Sam did not even attempt to look guilty with Mori Tanaka’s face staring at him from the family photo on his desk. 

“Mori’s the one who asked me to look into it,” Sam shrugged and Jerry looked at him skeptically as he took his seat at the desk across from him. Sam noticed and sighed, “Its Snyder. Mori thinks he’s cooking the books somehow. I said I’d take a look.” 

Jerry kept his comment about this being a job for the Financial Division to himself. Douglas was weird when it came to his father-in-law and Jerry wasn’t touching those Daddy Issues with a ten-foot pole. Maybe a twenty-foot pole? And a couple bottles of whiskey. 

“Jess know about this?” Jerry watched Sam roll his shoulders, “She doesn’t. Gotcha.” Great. Now he had to keep his mouth shut at Sunday night dinners. “You’re lucky your kids are cute,” Jerry grumbled as he picked up a file – 1120s for the past two decades. Yay.

The kids were cute. Little Sam was a bundle of blond giggles and Jeffrey scowled at everything. And Jerry would be lying if he said he didn’t get great amusement at seeing Jeffrey the Scowler toddling after his father every Sunday. And not just because the tyke was named after him. 

“Agent Jeffries,” Jerry looked up at their unit chief, he had his eyebrows raised at the piles of folders on their desks, “We catch a case no one told me about?” 

Jerry smirked at Sam, “You want to take that one, Douglas?” 

Another shoulder roll, “Not really.” 

-.-.- 

“Alright, kid,” Jerry threw his hotdog wrapper in the trash, “Out with it. Why am I here?” 

Jeffrey – Colt, whatever – rolled his shoulders back as he folded his hotdog wrapper into smaller and smaller squares. Jerry couldn’t help but smirk. He and Sam were heads of their own units now, so it’d been a while since he’d seen that particular shoulder roll. 

“Should I guess?” Jerry grinned at the fifteen-year-old, who instantly scowled. “Hmm, fight with your old man?” Scowl. “Girl trouble?” Blush. Scowl. “Ok, you and Rocky fighting?” Eye roll. “Your mom giving you grief about grandkids?” 

Colt’s head swiveled and his eyebrows scrunched together, “What?”

Jerry chuckled, “Just my mother then.” They kept walking. Colt had asked him to go to lunch. An odd occurrence. It was becoming odder by the second. 

“Will you teach me to shoot?” Jerry was really happy he’d finished his hotdog already. Colt was looking at his hotdog wrapper – now magically transformed into a flimsy ninja star. 

“You tryin’ to get me killed?” Jerry stopped to turn towards Colt, “Cause your mother will kill me I even think of saying yes to that.” It was a true statement. Jessica Douglas was the scariest person he’d ever met. 

Colt crossed his arms and met his eyes now, “I won’t tell if you don’t.” Oh, yeah, like he was going to fall for that. “I figure, if people keep pointing guns at me, it might be a good idea to learn how to use one.” Guilt trip, party of one. 

“That’s what cops are for,” Jerry could feel himself losing that one when Colt started laughing. “Ok,” Jerry sighed, “Point made.” He started walking, “But if your mother finds out I’m throwing you under the bus quicker than you can throw a ninja star.” 

-.-.-

A boxing gym would not have been Jerry’s first guess when looking for Colt. He had, in fact, thought the beach or the mall more likely. But Jerry had asked Rocky, who had snorted and rattled off an address before wishing him good luck. Very sarcastically. 

“Well, I’m shocked!” Jerry could play at sarcasm too. He probably shouldn’t do it when Colt was attacking a bag with such ferocity. But hey, Jerry was a workaholic, teasing Sam’s kids was the closest he got to fun nowadays. 

Colt threw one last punch and sent the bag spinning. He looked displeased as he turned to face him. Jerry could guess why. His eyes were ringed red. And it wasn’t all sweat on his face. “What are you doing here?” Colt pushed past him. 

Jerry followed him to the locker room, “Big, bad deputy director came in all huffy this morning.” That was an understatement. A probie had fled from Sam’s office crying. “Only one person manages to throw him that far off his game.” 

“Rocky gave me up,” Colt jerked his locker open.

“Like a hot potato,” Jerry grinned as he straddled the bench that ran along the lockers. 

Colt didn’t have a lot of tells. He rolled his shoulders when he was nervous, his voice went an octave higher when aggravated, and if anything really got to him he was liable to beat the crap out of it. 

Honestly, if he didn’t share every damn one of those with Sam Jerry wouldn’t have a chance in hell of identifying when the kid was actually upset. Not that he’d tell either of them that. It didn’t go over well. Shocking!

“So,” Jerry leveled a look at Colt as he finished vigorously wiping the ‘sweat’ from his face, “What the old man do?” Colt scoffed, but he sat down on the bench in front of him. Jerry was actually a little concerned he might start crying again – in which case, all bets were off, he’d kick Sam’s ass for him. 

“There’s a tournament next month,” Colt stared at the floor, teeth gritted, “I’m old enough for the advanced division.” Jerry saw where this was going. Sam was not a fan of fighting. For sport especially. 

It was particularly funny if you knew the man went to college on a wrestling scholarship. 

In any case, every time it came up – Colt got in a fight at school, Colt wanted to spend a weekend at his grandfather’s, Colt and Rocky sparing in the backyard, when the girl across the street asked Colt to show her a few moves – Sam freaked. 

“The one in LA?” Jerry kept pretty decent track of martial art tournaments in the area. It was an easy way to figure out where Colt would go when upset and it had come in handy a few times in the past. 

Colt nodded, “He said no, of course.” He sneered, “I’ll never learn to control my temper if all I want to do is fight.” There was a sniffle. Oh, Jerry really hoped the kid wasn’t going to cry.

“Chin up kid,” Jerry clipped his chin with his hand, “I’ll talk to your dad.” Colt’s head swung around to stare at him, wide eyed. Jerry made it a point not to step on any parental toes, but seriously? You don’t make a man a godfather if you don’t want him to point out your hypocrisies. 

So that’s what he did. He dropped the kid off at home and headed back to the office. 

Sam was still in his mood, but Jerry was more than a match for that. 

“You made him cry, you know,” Jerry closed the door of Sam’s office and folded his arms. Sam looked up, a scowl still on his face, “Colt.” And the scowl flopped. Belly-flopped, if the red face was anything to go by. “I have a strict, no crying policy when it comes to godsons.”

“You only have one godson, Jerry,” Sam rubbed his fingers into his eye. Good, he felt guilty. Jerry didn’t want to actually kick his ass, technically, Sam was his boss. 

Jerry grinned, “I’m aware.” He took a seat, propped his feet up on the desk, “I’m not sure how aware you are of your blatant hypocrisy, Mr. Wrestling Scholarship.” And the scowl was back. “Oh, yes, I know about the tournament.” Jerry leveled a withering look at Sam, “Anything you’d care to add before I launch into my prepared lecture?” 

-.-.-

Jerry grumbled into his pillow as he reached for his phone. It was ringing, obnoxiously. No respect for the hangover. Didn’t it know he was suspended? 

“Jeffries,” Jerry answered robotically, rolling in his bed to face his ceiling. Bad plan. His stomach churned. 

“Snyder escaped from prison.” Jerry sat up in bed, hangover forgotten, “Yesterday.” The voice registered as Sam Douglas. He’d made deputy director last year and was in Washington as of last night. 

Jerry checked his clock, 11a, “Protection detail?” He got up to grab clean clothes.

“FitzPatrick is scrambling now,” Sam sounded ragged, worry edging his voice, “I was only informed half an hour ago when FitzPatrick called me to help locate Jess and the boys.” 

Heads would roll. Possibly literally if Mori Tanaka still had that sword. Jerry slipped on a clean pair of jeans and found himself clipping on his off-duty weapon.

“I told FitzPatrick to loop you in. I know you’re suspended,” Sam was huffing, angry, “But I know for sure you didn’t have anything to do with this mess. I can trust you to find the boys.”

“Find?” Jerry paused with his keys in hand, “They’re not at home?” Rocky was at UCLA this year he knew, but Colt at least should still be in bed at 11a on a Saturday.

Sam chuckled, dark and hollow, “Rocky’s in the dorms this year, campus police are enroute, but Colt left early this morning apparently and left his phone.” Jerry hissed. That didn’t bode well, “We had a fight last night before I left.” There it was. 

“I’ve got some idea where he’ll be,” Jerry tugged his cell from its charger, “I’ve got my cell, I’ll call FitzPatrick as soon I’ve got him.” If Colt wasn’t at home, he was training. 

He was driving through LA traffic towards Reggie’s Boxing Gym. At 11a on a Saturday. With a hangover. The things he did for his godson. 

-.-.-

Colt was sitting on the ambulance’s bumper when Jerry finished talking with the cops. The teen’s gaze was focused entirely on the white sheet that now covered the body of one Hugo Snyder. 

“Well,” Jerry huffed as he sat beside him. Colt’s head snapped up to look at him. “I’m glad I taught you to shoot.” That earned him a half-smile. Jerry wrapped an arm around the brunet. Colt was shaking like a leaf. “But if your mother asks?” 

Colt chuckled, his grip tightening on the shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders, “I’m just naturally gifted.” Jerry nodded, tucking the kid’s head underneath his chin as he went. “What about dad?” Colt’s voice cracks and Jerry almost doesn’t catch it the kid is talking so quietly. 

“Pretty sure he’s gonna be focused on the bullet that went whizzing by your head rather than the one you shot.” In fact, Jerry would bet hard money on that. Sam would be agonizing over the bullets in the boxing gym’s wall for days. “He might get distracted by the fact that Snyder knew your weekend routine better than him too.” 

Suspension was a blessing in disguise. Sam would be in a mood for weeks. 

-.-.-

“I had nothing to do with it Sam.” Jerry didn’t look up from his desk. He didn’t even wait for Sam to knock. He’d known this was coming.

“But you knew he was going to apply?!” Sam had his hands planted firmly on his hips. Jerry looked up from his paperwork and thought vaguely of retirement. “You didn’t think to tell me?”

Jerry snorted, “Tell you your son was joining the Bureau? Do I look suicidal to you?” Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Come on, you really surprised Colt’s the one following in your footsteps? He’s been doing it since the day he was born.” 

“I’m aware,” Sam sighed as he flopped into one of the chairs in front of Jerry’s desk. Jerry watched him roll his shoulders back. “But I thought he’d stay put on the LAPD.”

“And that’s…better?” Jerry scrunched his eyebrows together, “Don’t they get shot at more than us?” Sam glared at him. Jerry grinned. “The kid studied Criminal Justice. He can kick more ass than you ever could. And he’s got nicer hair. Just accept that you’re being replaced by the newer and better model, Sammy.” 

Sam doubled over in laughter, “Jess has been wanting me to retire.” 

“If you don’t, I will,” Jerry shook his head, “I do not get paid enough to mediate your arguments full time.” 

“Haven’t you been doing that since he was born, Jer?”


End file.
